


Never Too Drunk To

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-30
Updated: 2006-09-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:50:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Drunk Sammy, car sex. That about covers it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** Never Too Drunk To  
**Author:** merepersiflage  
**Pairings:** Sam/Dean  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Category:** fluffy PWP  
**Word Count:** 1900  
**Summary:** Drunk Sammy, car sex. That about covers it.   
**Warnings:** incest, graphic m/m sex, language, fluff   
**Disclaimer:** yep  
  
  
  
  
“I.” Sam made an elaborate gesture before thumping himself in the chest. “Am soooo drunk.”  
  
Dean laughed. “Yeah, ya are.”  
  
“Why am I so drunk?”  
  
“Well even though you can’t ever see them, I thought you’d want to keep both your ears, so I had to stitch one back on.”  
  
Sam clapped his hands on the sides of his head. “Ow.”  
  
If Dean hadn’t been driving, he’d have buried his face in his hands.   
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Oh. Little fucker bit my ear. I hate kid ghosts.”  
  
“You looked pretty funny with him on your back like that.”  
  
“Why . . .” Sam seemed to get interested in the passing scenery. There wasn’t much, pitch black fields on both sides. “Why . . .” Apparently he forgot again.   
  
Sam did not drink. He had a two beer limit, which was why Dean was having so much trouble keeping a smile off his face confronted with a Sam with eight shots in him. It had taken the last shot to get him to hold still long enough for Dean to get those last stitches in the top of his ear.   
  
“Why what?”  
  
“I have nooo idea.” Sam’s lips rounded on the _o_.   
  
Dean looked back at the road.   
  
“Oh. Why was he on my back? Why weren’t you watching it?”  
  
“Because I was dealing with his sister.” Dean looked at the scratches the little fiend had carved on the back of his hand.   
  
“Ohhhh.” More rounded lips.   
  
And if they didn’t need to put some serious mileage between them and the house he’d just burned down he’d pull over and kiss those ridiculously pursed lips.   
  
“We’re in the car.” Sam pointed out.   
  
It was as if he’d been reading his mind. But Sam said it with such a degree of surprise Dean had to choke back his laughter. He liked drunk Sam, he didn’t want a pissed drunk Sam.   
  
“Yes, we are.”  
  
“I’m horny.”  
  
“Dude, you’re always horny.”  
  
“I am not. I am drunk. And I am horny.” Sam pronounced this with the serious tone he usually reserved for _Dean, we can’t burn down the entire house._  
  
“Well, Sammy, you were born with two perfectly good hands.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“I’m driving here, Sam.”  
  
“Goddamn it.”  
  
Dean kept his eyes on the road until a frustrated whimper had him glancing over at the passenger seat again. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I can’t . . .” Sam’s hands jerked at his belt again and slid off. “I can’t do this.”  
  
Dean glanced at the empty blacktop ahead of him and reached over to unlatch Sam’s belt.   
  
Sam made a choked groan that ripped down Dean’s nerves like a jolt from a cattle prod until his dick pumped against the fly of his jeans. He checked the road again and looked back over. In the light from the dash, he could see the color on Sam’s cheeks, his lips open to let out more of those desperate whimpers filled Dean's cock with blood, fire hot and liquid sweet. Sam’s fingers were loose around his dick, like he couldn’t remember how to jerk himself off.   
  
Dean brought his thumb to his mouth before sliding it across the head of Sam’s dick. Even Sam’s appreciative groan was a drunken slur. “Yhnnnn.”  
  
Dean managed a few quick strokes. “There, dude, got ya started.”  
  
“Nnngh. Can’t. C’mon.”  
  
Dean scanned the road, trying to find a place to pull off because if Sam made that sound one more time, he might just come in his jeans. He snuck a look back over, Sam was staring at his dick like he’d never seen it before and was sadly disappointed.   
  
“Dean, please.”   
  
Sam tried another few strokes before making that desperate whimper again and that was fucking _it_.   
  
Dean rolled the car onto the shoulder and cranked off the ignition before getting his first good look at Sam. His brother’s eyes were shaded with those dark lashes, cheeks stretched as his mouth dropped open all wet and loose. His tongue came out to poke at his dark lips as he tried again to jerk himself off.   
  
“’S not working, Dean.”  
  
“I know.” Dean reached over and fisted him.   
  
Sam arched up with a groan that vibrated right through Dean’s back teeth.  
  
He shifted along the seat. “Help me get your pants off, Sammy.”  
  
“Uh-huh.” Sam raised his hips but apparently that was all the help he was going to be.   
  
Dean wrestled with the heavy denim and thin cotton of his boxers until he got them to his knees. From there, they were Sam’s problem.   
  
“Please, Dean, wanna fuck.”  
  
“We’re getting there, baby.”  
  
Sam sputtered a laugh. “Not yer baby.”  
  
But he was when he was like this. Needy and pliant and helpless and Dean didn’t want to think about how many shades of fucked up he was to want him to keep him drunk and this wide open.  
  
“Gonna be. Gonna be my dick up your ass in a minute, Sammy.”  
  
“But I wanna fuck you.”  
  
Dean huffed a laugh against Sam’s neck as he climbed into him. “Of the two of us, who is feeling no pain? Not to mention suffering a lack of coordination that means you’re getting no where near my ass.”  
  
“Uh—”  
  
“Don’t think too hard, there, baby.” Dean licked the edge of Sam’s jaw, working teeth and lips back toward his undamaged ear as his hand stroked Sam’s cock again.   
  
Sam arched up. “That, do that, don’t care.”  
  
Dean shifted down until their hips met, trying to get his own pants open with his free hand. And what with the being in the car, shit did he even have a condom?   
  
He grabbed Sam’s hand and brought it to his brother’s dick, got him working himself in a rhythm and scrambled for his wallet. Please, god. Yes. He’d replaced it from the last time things had gone too far to stop outside the conveniences of a motel room.   
  
The rubber was prelubed, but he wasn’t sure—he reached into the backseat and dug through his duffle, while Sam tried to climb into his lap and at last got his hand around the tube of KY. He pushed Sam off so he could get himself ready.   
  
“Hurry, Dean, Jesus, what’re y’doin’?”   
  
Sam looked like he’d just figured out that he couldn’t suck his own dick and was pretty pissed off about it. If Dean had to watch Sam’s face while he was this desperate he wasn’t going to hold it together long enough to give either of them a decent ride.   
  
“You know.” He turned Sam to face the windshield and pushed him forward. “You could be a little more help.” He slid in behind him and Sam came back down straddling his legs. “That’s it, Sammy.”   
  
He slicked the crease of Sam’s ass with his fingers, dipping in just a touch, and then coated his latex-covered dick, wishing he’d thought to get some underneath, but since he was seconds away from Sam’s ass milking his cock, it really wasn’t going to matter.   
  
He lined himself up, found that tiny bit of yield as that tight ring gave just enough.   
  
Sam made another one of those whimpers. “Dean—I—”  
  
“Yes, you can, baby.”  
  
“Nghh”  
  
“C’mon, baby.” He held Sam’s hips as Sam tried to squirm forward, to ease away from that pressure and pain. He waited a few breaths and pulled him back. Sam made that sound again, that god-help-me-Dean whine but he wasn’t trying to move away anymore and Dean worked himself deeper.   
  
“Can’t.” Sam panted. “Wait.”  
  
“You tellin’ me this is worse than stitches in your ear?”  
  
“Fuck yes.”  
  
“I’m takin’ that as a compliment.”  
  
Sam’s words squeezed out between ragged breaths. “Dean, god, stretch me first.”  
  
“I am stretching you, just using my dick.”  
  
Sam groaned in frustration, but he eased back a little more, and then Dean was sliding in a grip so tight he couldn’t see for a second. Sam’s hands dug into the dash, his arms shaking. At last he shifted, and it wasn’t a whimper or a moan and maybe Dean was drunk off the fumes from Sam’s breath because he’d swear his brother just fucking purred.   
  
“Good now?” He rolled his hips forward.  
  
Sam ground down to meet him. “So good. C’mon, fuck me.”  
  
“I told ya you were going to have to do a little work.” He gripped Sam’s hips and rocked him up and down.   
  
Sam purred again, and Dean put a note in the margins of his brain to make sure to get Sam drunk at least once a week from now on because not only was he a hell of an easy lay but he made sounds that would work better than Viagra if he ever needed it.   
  
Beneath his hands, Sam’s hips found an uneven rhythm of their own, short and sloppy but so good, such incredibly perfect friction on his dick. He didn’t need much more but then Sam pulled forward and came all the way back down and now Dean was purring, a deep rumble of “Sammy, god, Sammy.”   
  
Dean wrapped an arm around his hips. His hips were only taking orders from his dick now, bucking hard and fast. Dean knew they’d found just the right angle when Sam got loud. Shut- the-hell-up-in-there-pounding-on-the-motel-wall loud.   
  
“Now, g’damnghhh.”  
  
Dean got his teeth on Sam’s shoulder blade and a hand on his dick and prayed to hold on just long enough. Another yell and his thumb caught the first stream of come as he rubbed it across the head, Sam jerking, his muscles clenching around his dick until Dean threw his head back and let it all go white hot inside.   
  
He spat out the mouthful of Sam’s t-shirt and caught his breath. He scraped his come slippery fingers off on Sam’s belly. His brother was so drunk he wouldn’t notice, slumped forward onto the dash. Slumped like he didn’t even have a spine. _Sonofabitch_. Sam was passed out cold.   
  
He wasn’t going to rag on Sam about him eating turkey instead of a hamburger next time; the guy weighed a fucking ton. A ton of Sam that had him trapped with his dick inside, and very little room to wiggle free. And he didn’t want to think about what would happen if a cop came by.   
  
“Sam.” He tried to wake him, pinched his hips, and even his nipples but his brother just drooled and snored.   
  
Finally he managed to shove his weight far enough forward to get himself out from under him. He thought his dick was going to come off as he twisted free. He pushed Sam until he flopped against the door. Dean looked at him sprawled there, naked from the waist down, mouth open like he’d just been sucking cock, his cheeks still flushed with heat from sex, and decided Sam was seriously lucky there wasn’t a drug store any where around here. A little lipstick and some blood red nail polish would make a perfect blackmail picture.   
  
Dean tied off the rubber and tossed it out the window, just barely resisting the urge to smack Sam with it. He tucked himself in, his dick still protesting that twisting he’d done to get free, and decided he’d have to find an all night drug store after all.   
  
 


End file.
